


I Fucking Hate You

by g0bliin



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Blow Jobs, Choking, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Everyone is of age, F/M, Face Slapping, Hate Sex, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Obsessive Behavior, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Size Difference, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, ya boi guzma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-02-16 06:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18686353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0bliin/pseuds/g0bliin
Summary: Guzma can't move on from his relationship with Moon. One night he sees her again.Set some time after Sun/Moon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written any fanfiction for Pokemon before, so I'm sorry if I make a few mistakes. It's been a few years since I've played Pokemon Sun/Moon, and I have not played US/UM, details for the former are pretty fuzzy. 
> 
> I just have too much love for my boi Guzma.

“Ya ready for me, babygirl?” Guzma inhaled one last drag of his cigarette, throwing the butt on the ground. His heel stomped on it, grinding it against the carpet. Fuck the carpet - it was shitty enough in this dump of a mansion. It didn’t matter enough to be cleaned.

Nothing really mattered anymore.

The girl’s face was illuminated by the moon outside as she lay on his bed. Her legs were already spread apart, arms sprawled across the sheets. She was too preoccupied to answer, save for a bout of hiccups. God, she fucking reeked of alcohol. Was this even a good idea?

Then again, he was as drunk as she was. Experience just taught him how to handle his liquor better.

He had already forgotten her name by the time they had stumbled back from the bars, holding each other and laughing hysterically while sharing swigs of whiskey from a bottle Guzma swiped from the counter.

Tourists were always easy lays. They didn’t know he was the big, bad, boss Guzma, former gang leader of Team Skull, a failure of a human, and a waste of space. Tourists had the same viewpoint of him as he did with them. Forgetful and fun.

The night would be shared by them, and hell, he’d hopefully enjoy the nice fuck. But by the time the sun rose, she would be gone. He’d come to his senses and kick her out once he came inside. Feelings of regret were already creeping up in his stomach, tying it into a knot. Dismissing the gnawing thoughts, he pulled out his shaft from his boxers, pumping it a few times in preparation.

“I said, are ya ready for me?” he asked once more, leaning over the girl, biting at the skin just above her chest. The tip of his cock grinded against her slit, causing her to moan. She was drenched, juices already covering his cock head. His lips twitched, scoffing at the sight.

“‘Been ready f’r awhile now. _Fuuccck me already,_ daddy. GAWWD.” She stuck her tongue out and rolled her head back in laughter. Guzma rolled his eyes, already thinking of kicking the bitch out as soon as he came in her.

If she only kept her damn trap shut - he might’ve let her stay the night.

He silently thrust himself into her - a little too roughly, closing his eyes. Looking at her was the last thing he wanted to do. Just use her. Toss her after. These days, most people were expendable. You’d just get what you want from them and throw them away like garbage. And that’s all he was going to do to this drunken, stupid slut.

Fuck her.

Use her.

Have his mind focus on fucking her raw, letting the demons of his mind disappear for a few brief minutes. Fuck her hard enough to get..- no. The mere thought of _her_ would ruin the rest of the night. It wasn’t as if the night was already shitty; Guzma just couldn’t bare to think about her anymore.

The girl beneath him stirred, bringing him back to reality. “Fuck meeeee!”

He put his hands around her throat, leaning in close to her face. His eyes had a sense of emptiness to them; no life sparked within. He gently squeezed her neck, putting pressure on her throat. “Hold tight, babygirl, ya boy’s gonna fuck you real nice now,” Guzma growled, digging his nails into her soft flesh.

With no response from her other than her inane moans, he began to pound her senseless, stirring up her insides with long strides. They were rhythmic, and he found himself counting the seconds pulling out before thrusting back in with so much force the girl’s body jolted.

One, two, thrust.

One, two, thrust.

One, two, fuck.

One, two, forget.

Guzma closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. His face was twisted in concentration, panting hard, trying to block out every god awful shrill and gurgled moan from the girl. At least she was responsive unlike the last girl he fucked. She had just laid on his bed, her body flopping around like a Magikarp out of water.

This current girl was nothing more than a warm, pleasurable hole for his cock - a device to get him off until he was drunk enough to repeat the same process with another. He removed his hands from her neck and grabbed her boobs, teasing her nipples with her fingertips, pulling and twisting them cruelly..

“Yeah, you like that ya fuckin’, miserable slut? Fuckin’ men like me?” he panted, his grip tightening on her boobs. “Pretending I’m your goddamn - ah - father?”

The girl nodded, stretching her arms out to wrap around his neck. “Yes, daddy.”

Her fingernails barely grazed the flesh of his neck and he flinched, suddenly stopping, his body stiff with anger.

How dare she. How _fucking_ dare she coddle him like her.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me, _slut_ ,” Guzma hissed, jerking her arms off. “I’m not ya goddamn Daddy.”

Fuck. He grew soft, and his mood was spoiled. Pulling out of her cunt, he grabbed an old shirt on the ground to clean her juices off and put his cock back in his boxers, turning his back to the girl. He didn’t want to see her face right now. The disappointment flickering in her eyes, just like _hers_.

Guzma dreaded the worst when he finally turned around, anticipating the girl collecting her things to leave his mansion in a huff, followed by a slew of insults. Instead, he found her asleep, loud snores coming from her mouth. “Shit.”

He couldn’t just throw her out now. And drunk girls were _not_ fun to mess with once you’ve woken them up. Maybe - nah. It wasn’t worth it. Heavily sighing, he grabbed a blanket, tossing it over the sleeping girl. The girl snuggled into it, shifting her body to lay on her side.

Guzma’s lips twitched in amusement for a second. The urge to kiss her forehead overcame him, then stopped himself, frozen where he stood, still as a statue. No, he couldn’t do that. Kissing girls he didn’t care for brought too much trouble for himself.

An eternity seemed to pass before he was able to move his limbs again; his first course of action, to search for his cigarettes. Fuck, where did the moon go? It was just there, then disappeared behind a curtain of clouds. The room was encompassed in darkness. His foot brushed a familiar touch of fabric and he picked up his pants, taking the pack of cigarettes and lighter out of the pocket before sliding them back up.

Guzma walked to his throne, plopping himself down on it. He swung his legs around so they dangled off of the armrest. He had the sleeping girl in sight, and thankfully she was still breathing. Taking a cigarette out of the pack, he put it in his mouth, using the lighter to ignite the tip.

Thank God for the creation of nicotine. Wonderful, wonderful nicotine.

As he exhaled smoke, Guzma leaned his head up, folding his arms across his chest. He wished there was whiskey leftover - something to help him sleep. By the looks of it, he was in for another sleepless night - it’s not like he slept much these days anyway. He sighed, inhaling his cigarette.

Raindrops pattered on the windows tenderly as a lover’s kiss, a low rumble of thunder following. The sounds of storms soothed him, a constant, stable thing he could hold on to. Po Town and its famous thunderstorms - so fierce and so moody. If you weren’t careful walking down Route 17, you’d end up drenched.

That’s how Guzma saw her the first time.

She looked like drowned Rattata waltzing up to his town in the middle of a storm, demanding back some pokemon his grunts had taken. He’d forgotten what they stole, but the image of her stuck in his mind, hiding in the deepest, darkest corners he would rather not recall.

Her wet clothes clung onto her body, revealing everything. The way strands of hair framed her features, making her porcelain jawline sharper. And the look of determination in her eyes. Guzma had never seen someone so fierce, so ready to protect a stranger. Her voice _commanded_ him to give back the pokemon. Oh, when she spoke, he thought his heart would stop beating.

This soaked, little brat brought him to his knees over and over. Her smile, her anger, her tears controlled him like a dog on a leash. Big, bad, boss Guzma hated her, how fucking perfect she was, somehow able to show such affection a low-life like him. Not even his own parents loved him.

But she did.

He took another drag, letting it out slowly. The smoke coiled upwards towards the ceiling, swirling around in a lazy dance as it dispersed throughout the room.

The words would never leave his lips - but, in his head, he quietly admitted he missed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guzma sees Moon again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own the song, it belongs to Joy Division.

“Do you want to do this?” Guzma breathed out, voice raspy with need. His calloused hands cupped her cheeks and wiped away the tears streaming down. “Do you want me, Moonie?” Some primal desire stirred within his core, torn between cradling her shaking body all night, to ripping off her clothing and fucking her so roughly the sadness leaked out of her. Instead, he rubbed the back of her head, biting down on his lower lip.

“I don’t want you, Guzma. I _need_ you,” Moon raised her head slightly, their lips brushing against each other. Her breath was in the same needy tone as his. “I don’t think you understand how much I’ve been craving for you to touch me like this all evening.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away, lowering her eyes. “But I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what, babe? I ain’t that scary no more!” He joked, moving his hands to her shoulders, squeezing them gently. He lips twitched into a soft smirk. “So what if you’re leaving this dump for Kanto? Ya boy Guzma will be here waiting for ya in Po Town. Like every other time you’ve wandered down here, I’ll be up in my room playing video games or something.”

She pulled herself out of his grasp and slid to the edge of his bed, crossing her arms. “That’s the thing, Guzma! I don’t want to make you wait around for me like some Lycanroc. I have no idea when I’ll be back in Alola. There are so many other regions I need to travel to after Kanto. Kalos, Unova, Sinnoh...” She sighed. “I won’t be back in Alola for _at least_ eight months. And that’s the minimum estimate. There’s a big chance I could be gone for more than a year! I cannot do that to you. You need someone who will be around all the time.”

“Geez, I can fuckin’ wait, babe. What? You think I’m gonna break down from not seeing ya every day?” he scoffed at her, wrapping an arm around her - ignoring how tense her shoulders became at his touch. “There are video calls and other shit we can do to keep in touch. I can even take a boat and come visit ya for a couple of days. It’s not like yer leaving me forever, right?”

Moon grew silent, running her tongue across her lower lip nervously. She closed her eyes for a moment as if in pain before opening them towards him. “That’s the thing, Guzma. I _am_ leaving you. In fact, I leave for Kanto first thing in the morning. So, I’m cutting things off between us. It'll save us from later heartbreak and fighting.”

Guzma grabbed her shirt for a second, balling the sleeve in his palm before letting her go. He stood up wordlessly, stepping over to his throne and putting a hand on the armrest to steady himself.

“You’re... _joking_? Moonie, please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not, Guzma.”

“I....”

The air was knocked clean out of him. She had punched his gut with every syllable spoken, leaving him speechless and confused. Sure, yeah, he wasn’t the brightest fella around, and he was the last person anyone dated, but was he really that awful to be around?

Did she have to tear his heart out? _God!_ His fingers ran through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. Different thoughts kept rushing through his mind, though none of them were making any sense.

First she wanted to fuck him, now she didn’t. Before that, she told him she loved him with all of her heart, and here she was dumping his sorry ass to pursue a career and chase after her dreams. Had she used him? Like all the other people in his life? His parents? Friends? The old, bitter feeling snaked around his throat, coiling around. How could she do this him after all this time together?

A part of him still wanted to hold her in his arms. Just the two of them on his bed, with her sitting on his lap, dreaming about the future, away from the world. Forget about that world, Moon was his world - the only world he knew.

No! He gritted his teeth, flinching at his thoughts. Moon had led him on, allowed him to believe that happiness was his future, that they would share that future together. Anger welled up in his chest, overwhelming his senses and taking control of him.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“G-Guzma?” she stammered, caught off guard by his venomous word. “Guzma, honey, can we please talk about this -”

“I don’t feel like talkin’ right now.” He faced her, his eyes narrowed into venomous slits. “If you aren’t outta here in ten fuckin’ seconds, I will kick your pretty, precious, Pokémon Champion ass to the curb.”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!” she spat back, jumping up from the bed. Tears stung her eyes once again, glaring through him. “I didn’t want us to end like this.”

“Too fuckin’ bad. You should’ve thought ‘bout this sooner before ya started fuckin’ me.” He stomped over to her, shoving his face into hers. “Leave, ‘fore I drag ya outside by ya hair screamin’ and kickin’.”

“Guzma let me-.”

“I’m not lettin’ ya run your mouth anymore. I don’t need no brat manipulating me any longer. _I said **get the fuck out**_.”

She raised her eyebrows, lips twitching into a somber smile. “...Goodbye, Guzma. Have a nice life.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Moon turned to leave his room, taking one more glance at Guzma before she left, eyes full of disappointment and tears.

The sudden remorse hit him like a ton of bricks, and his legs worked as if on reflex to chase after her, calling her name over and over. Goddamnit, he was fucking it up. Losing her in this manner would be the end of him. He didn’t want to be alone. But there was nothing ahead - she had disappeared into the void. He was determined to run after her, running towards nothing. She was ahead, just out of his reach.

“I’m sorry, Moon. Please come back, Moonie, I’m sorry!” He’d screamed so loudly his voice turned hoarse.

And he was left in the dark, sinking to his knees. _“Mooooooon!_

* * *

Guzma jolted up from his slumber, sheets clinging onto his wet body. He shifted his eyes across the room, making note he was still in his bedroom - alone. His panting slowed to a normal pace, and he let out a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“Just another fuckin’ dream."

Out of habit, his hand reached out to the other side of the bed, looking to grasp something. His muscles stiffened, cursing at himself for being stupid, and pulled back.

There was nobody there to comfort him.

* * *

It was horribly muggy, sweaty, and the bar was already covered in some sickly-sweet substance that made his hands sticky. Still, alcohol _was_ alcohol, and he'd be damned if some old fuck was going to ban him from going out to drink.

Nanu had swung by his place unannounced with some warrant out for petty theft. Guess someone finally took notice of all the liquor he’d been stealing. Luckily (or unluckily), all he had to do was pay the amount he owed to the owners. Nothing wrong with that; he had plenty of cash lying around. Better than being hauled off to jail. It was just Nanu’s second condition that really ticked him off.

“You’re banned from all bars within five miles for three months, kid.”

The old cop had some kind of fatherly streak in him, always watching out for him, but it felt more like he was breathing down his neck, waiting for the chance to nag him. Stop drinking, get a real job, enroll in online classes, blah blah blah. God, it was annoying as fuck sometimes. Let a poor guy live and make mistakes!

The mere thought of today’s events with Nanu caused him to scowl, pinching at the bridge of his nose. True to his word, the cop had plastered an old mugshot of Guzma’s on the front door of every single watering hole in a five-mile radius.

Still, desperate for a drink, he walked all the way to Heahea City and into the nearest bar, only to find it was a hot spot for tourists and Pokemon alike. It was miraculous he was able to squeeze up to a spot at the bar, ordering something strong enough to block out this experience.

 _Next time, do_ not _step into any old bar you see on the street. Look for local place instead of a froufrou den of sweat and teenagers on spring break._

Especially since it was a karaoke bar. He had only been there for about twenty minutes, and he already began to pray that the Tapu took away his hearing. Either drunk girls were shrieking their drunken heart out to some pop song, or some dude sung in a flat monotone, embarrassed to be up on stage.

He picked up his shot glass full of whiskey, about to chug it all down, before a laughing girl was pushed into his backside, droplets of his drink dripping down his fingers. His nostrils flared as he jerked his head around to see that same girl walk away obliviously, still laughing. Eyes rolling, Guzma downed the drink, letting out a satisfied smack.

The microphone crackled, grabbing his attention. It was time for another three minute round of hell. He turned around, smirking to himself until he saw who was up on stage.

He blinked.

And blinked again, rubbing his eyes.

No...it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t even supposed to be in Alola.

But she was.

Moon was up on that stage, a nervous smile on her face as she fidgeted her microphone. Feedback caused her jump, giggling afterwards.

“Fuck…”

Guzma ducked his head down, grateful that he was a fair distance away from the stage, but still covered his white hair with a hand. His eyes crawled upon her body, noticing how long she had let her hair grow, and how her curves were highlighted by her tight dress. She wore sandals and had a hibiscus flower tucked above her right ear.

His old image of her was tarnished to dust by this strange girl onstage.

Before he could organize his thoughts, the music started, and he became enchanted. A siren calling a sailor to the sea, dragging him to a watery grave. Guzma never realized how much he missed listening to her voice, a flood of repressed memories overwhelming him.

_“When routine bites hard,_

_And ambitions are low,_

_And resentment rides high,_

_But emotions won't grow,_

_And we're changing our ways,_

_Taking different roads._

_Then love, love will tear us apart again._

_Love, love will tear us apart again.”_

Love certainly tore him apart.

He was completely unable to tear his eyes away from her, watching each subtle movement she made on stage. Her right hand cradled the microphone to her lips, as her left hand tapped along with the beat, fingertips poking the soft flesh of her thigh as she sung lyrics. All other patrons of the bar vanished. Only the two of them existed in that moment; him the only audience to her show.

Guzma swore to himself that he’d try to forget her and move on. She had left him, abandoned him on this cesspool of an island, to follow her dream. It was too late to salvage what remained of their relationship; all that remained were the few good memories from the pile of ash. Everything good was gone, and he wanted it that way.

But, perhaps, this was a chance to apologize. To do... _something_ right for once.

And he certainly wanted to do something to her. Animalistic desire overtook what little common sense writhed around his head, craving to sink his teeth into the supple part of flesh between her neck and shoulder. He wanted to make her cry, laugh, bleed, scream. Any possible way to bring her to her knees, bringing the impact of her disappearance and his loneliness to light with a caress.

Then the song ended, with scattered applause across the bar. Somewhere in the crowd, a man wolf-whistled as Moon bowed loosely, her smile wide. She came down the stage, unaware of Guzma’s staring. A hand brushed against his, and he jerked it back, turning to see a bartender scowling at him.

“Do you want anything else?”

“Another shot of somethin’ strong,” he replied nonchalantly, shifting back around to find Moon. But she had gone.

Fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_

Of course, the second he turned away, she’d disappear. Guzma stood up from the stool suddenly, searching all over the bar for her. He glanced at the door, saw the back of a familiar looking head, and rushed towards it. Pushing people aside, and stepping over a scurrying Meowth under his feet, he quickened his pace.

Another crowd of people were entering the bar, increasing the distance between him and Moon. “Fuckin’ _MOVE!”_ he snapped at a male tourist, shoving him out of the way.

Finally he reached the entrance, stumbling onto the sidewalk as he leaned over, putting his hands on his knees to replenish his exhausted lungs. The bustling noise of the city was a comfort after the chatter and screeching of drunken bastards - not to mention it was rather cooler outside than inside.

“Guzma.”

He froze in place, not sure if he was hallucinating that voice. He turned around to see Moon standing there, fidgeting with the handles of her purse. Words stuck in his throat, his mouth totally dry. Fuck, he’d probably looked like a fool, staring at her gaping like that.

“Hey, Moonie.” He swallowed, unsure if it was alright to call her by her old nickname. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” she pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It’s...it’s nice to see you again. How have you been?”

His lips twitched, wanting to reply in full sarcasm describing his misery. Instead he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the awkward tension creep up his spine. “Pssh, I’m fine. Ya boy’s always gonna be doin’ fine. How ‘bout you, Moonie?”

“Relaxed! It’s been nice returning to Alola for a visit.”

“Oh, uh, where do you live now?”

“Kalos. In Lumiose City. I rent out an apartment that’s becoming too expensive to pay for since I’m never home.” She scoffed.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that. Travelin’ all around the world, battling trainers comin’ for ya if ya breathe near ‘em. I’ll be spending the rest my days in Po Town, baby.” He licked his bottom lip, unsure if he really meant to sound like a grim loser, or in his unconscious, he settled upon that fact.

“I’m surprised you haven’t left yet. Is it still raining down there all the time?”

“Wouldn’t be Po Town without the rain.” Scratching at the back of his head again, he flashed a shy grin. “I don’t mind it, really. It ain’t all that bad. My body’s all conditioned to fall asleep soon as rain hits the glass.”

She laughed, turning her attention to a stumbling blonde who collapsed in Moon’s arms, groaning like a Snorlax. “I wanna go home, _pleaaaaaaaaaaaase_ , Moon.”

Moon rubbed the blonde’s head, wrapping an arm around her for support. “I told you to slow down and drink water. You know you’re a lightweight.”

“Hau said I’d be more tolerant if I drank more!”

“That doesn’t mean, 'destroy your liver.'”

“ _Killllll meeeeeeeeeee_.” _  
_

“You’re the one who begged me to go out with you!"

Meanwhile Guzma stood there amongst the bickering, unsure of what his next course of action was. He’d recognized blondie - Lillie, if he recalled. She was always stuck to Moon’s side like glue, dragging her all across the islands to shop or train Pokémon. Years later, it seemed that it was still the same.

“Hey, Guzma,” her voice broke through his thoughts. “I should probably take her home, but we’ll do a rain check, okay? We can go out for coffee or something.” She hoisted her drunk friend, who was now sinking to the ground. He rushed to her side, helping Moon have a better grip on her.

“Uh, sure. That sounds great.” Not like he had anything better to do, and it would be a perfect chance to make amends. A better place than outside of a shitty bar. “Ya still remember my number, right?”

Moon nodded, holding out her hand to wave at the road. A black cab pulled up to the curb. “Can you help me get her in?”

He nodded, almost too eagerly, opening the back door with one hand. The other pulled Lillie to the side, lifting her up so she was able to step in the car with less difficulty. She let out another groan once she was in the vehicle, mumbling something that Guzma couldn’t quite make out. Moon stepped to the open door, getting in while pushing Lillie farther.

“Thanks for your help.” She smiled at him. “I’ll try to give you a call or text in the morning. Sorry we couldn’t catch up more.”

Guzma leaned against the door, putting a hand to his hips, sending a silent prayer to whomever was listening for this encounter. “It’s fine, Moonie. Ya got blondie to worry ‘bout.” Her hand reached out to grab his, squeezing his wrist.

“It was _really_ nice to see you, Guzma.”

“Y-you too.

A flush crept up to his face, and his cool boy persona was gone. All the tension in his body was turning into a puddle. If he wasn’t getting support from the doorframe, he was sure he’d fall on the ground. God, this was pathetic. What ever happened to Big Bad Boss Guzma?

Moon shut the door, waving goodbye to him as the cab sped away from the curb. He watched it drive off, getting itself lost in the heavy traffic that plagued Heahea City. Guzma realized he should probably get a cab as well, tipsy as he was on love and drink.

Instead, he shoved his hands into his jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. He placed the cigarette between his lips, lighting the end before setting off on the long walk to the closest bus stop.

* * *

There were dozens of old pictures of Moon on his old laptop - a miracle that he was able to find it in the hellhole he called his room. All of them were nice, pleasant photos that reminded him of better days. Days when he actually had a life. He skimmed through the stash, smirking at a couple that caught his eye.

The first was of the two of them at the beach; Moon taking a selfie while he was stuck in the sand. He had a mermaid tail crafted around his legs. The second was of Moon showing off her bikini, a nice red gingham - including strings that he pulled at random times, which always got her flustered as she hurried to re-tie it before anyone saw.

Guzma licked his lips, remembering that day at the beach years ago. Moon hadn’t been able to get her swimsuit up in time, and while she was distracted, he broke out of the sculpture to tackle her into the bushes where they... He fucked her pretty good. How she covered her mouth to stifle her moans as he pulled on her nipples, his tongue slowly lapping at the sweat on her chest. Even now, his mouth still watered for that taste.

Fingers crept to his boxers and retrieved his hardening cock from them. Precum already began to drip from the tip.

Was he really about to jerk off to old pictures of his ex girlfriend?

It was already too late to turn back now. At least he had the decency to delete all of her old nudes. Most guys would either post them on some revenge porno site or keep them.

Guzma began stroking his cock, already trembling at his own touch. His eyes were fixated on her bikini picture, eyes darting between her cleavage and mons pubis. If he imagined it hard enough, maybe the bottoms would slip off, and reveal the soft tuft of hair she kept trimmed neat.

He bit his lips, stroking his cock more roughly, blood roaring through his ears. Jerking off would temporarily sate the itch in his loins, taming this carnal desire unleashed by Moon’s sudden appearance. This was the sole cure to settle the overwhelming cry of his broken heart - bittersweet, but welcomed gladly.

He loathed himself, how she could literally do nothing, yet continuously brought him to his knees. A lovesick fool grasping at the final hopes of people who abandoned him on the streets like trash. A shuddering gasp emerged from his lips, breaking the silence of the room. Guzma closed his eyes, his body tensing as it was lifted a couple inches up by his fidgeting. His toes coiled and uncoiled, his movements rapidly becoming uncontrollable.

It was as if Moon had her head between his thighs, her mouth wrapped around his cock, engulfing it into a wet heat. He was lost in her eyes, drowning in the vagueness of her loving gaze. Did she ever love him as equally as he loved her?

His wandering thoughts were reined in as pleasure spread all across his loins, building up towards the tip in a pool of warmth. Any moment now and he would burst, part of him wishing he was able to cum on her face. The pleasure was coming in waves, suffocating him with how strong they were, overwhelming him. Jerking off to Moon was the best relief he had in months, better than looking at porn, better than fucking desperate tourists.

Better than being alone.

Caught off guard, Guzma came with a soft grunt, moaning out Moon’s name. Pleading for her, his vision momentarily faded to black as his head grew dizzy. The pleasure rippled throughout his core. His orgasm knocked the wind out of him just like Moon did back at the bar.

And then it was gone.

He laid there, catching his breath, and blinked a couple of times. Stars still danced around the room, Moon’s face no longer lingering near him. Raindrops pattered against the windows, with a flash of lightning in the distance quickly lighting up the bleak room. How long had it been raining for? Never mind the weather, he needed to clean up.

Fingers reached for the shirt he wore this evening, and used the fabric as a cleaning rag. Once he was finished, he tossed it into a corner of his bedroom to stay until he had the motivation to do laundry. His eyes squinted, nose turning up in disgust as he noticed some of his spunk stained his boxers. It was probably time to take a shower. He pulled them off, once more tossing it in the corner to rot as he slid off of his bed to walk over to the bathroom.

Unlike everything else in his house, his bathroom was kept clean - other than an overflowing trash can and more articles of clothing shrewd about. Too many girls complained about the state of his bathroom; so, to save himself from a bitching hour, he’d cleaned up as well as he could. It wasn’t perfect, but he no longer had to listen to whining.

Turning the shower faucet to the left, Guzma held out his hand to test the water. Satisfied with the freezing temperature, he stepped in, letting the water run down his neck to his lower back.

Moon never enjoyed his cold showers, preferring scalding hot water that would blister his skin if he stayed with her for more than a minute. There he went again! Thinking about Moon. She never left his head, the constant thought of her overwhelming him.

There was something wrong with him. He made that statement long ago, but this current state... All the old memories, emotions, desires, were so strong, controlling every movement he chose, each decision up to this point, and which girl he used to release his frustrations.

She would never leave his thoughts, and he was comfortable with that fact. He bit his lip, running his fingers through his hair to help dampen it. Too many things stacked on top of each other, anxiety fluttering around his stomach. Either this was Hell, or just the crushing guilt of cumming to old photos of his ex.

He showered swiftly, washing all of his sin and pride away with coconut scented soap. He was dried off with a fresh pair of boxers, once more laying in bed. The laptop was put away underneath the bed, now on his phone browsing social media. The phone buzzed with a number he didn’t recognize at first, squinting to see the digits.

His eyes widened at the message underneath, once more leaving his breath lodged in his throat.

**“Coffee at 2 sound good? :)”  
**

Of course it was her.

**“sure. where at?”**

**“Uh...we can meet in Heahea City again? There’s half a dozen coffee shops we can pick from.”  
**

Guzma didn’t know how to reply, stuck between trying to sound funny, or to reply normally. Then again, the entirety of his evening was far from normalcy.

**“thats cool moonie. Idc where we at. u can decide n ill pay. my treat :)”**

Oh, he was about to do that, cringing at how pathetic he was

**“Can’t wait! We really need to catch up. G’night :DD”**

**“niiite”**

This was certainly going to be a long night. His only regret was that he wasn't drunk enough for sleep to come to him easily. Instead, he listened to the rain patter, having the gentle pattering slowly lull him to slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pinky promise there will be smut later~
> 
> I added in another chapter because I thought this work needed one more


	3. Chapter 3

Guzma dreamt of her again.

He found himself swimming down into the deepest, darkest pit of his fucked-up desires. His body floated in the void, confined to the boundaries of his dream and his unconscious thoughts.

Part of him was fueled by an old childish revenge to inflict pain, wanting her to experience the same loneliness that ravaged his thoughts night after night. To use her like the women he picked up. They were all the same to him - save for breast size. Why treat her with kindness when it would get thrown back in his face? Kindness was worthless, and only brought grief and trouble.

He was not going to repeat the same mistake he'd made with others.

However, another part of him - the once-lovesick Guzma who believed in true love and happiness, wanted... no, _craved_ Moon. It was a sign she had returned. Maybe, things can be okay again.

Moon, Moon, Moon, Moon, always fucking Moon! Why did he love her so much?

It was a horrible, neverending obsession with this girl. His mouth opened to scream in frustration, but no sound came out. Bubbles floated upwards, as he continued to be dragged downwards.

Just before inhaling his final breath, Guzma flung himself awake, gasping for air.

* * *

Was this really his reality? This can’t be real.

This wasn’t just some long-running joke brought upon him by fate. Moon really had returned to Alola and was willing to meet up with him.

His anxiety swallowed him whole, so prominent that his trembling fingers weren’t able to keep his phone steady. Guzma had already tried the breathing exercises he looked up, but the anxiety would just not go away. It tore around, deep in the pit of his belly, fluttering around in a panicked frenzy.

It was he who allowed his own anxiety to progress this badly.

Or rather, the notion of meeting with Moon did. Part of him blamed himself for being anxious, and part of him blamed Moon for affecting every aspect of his life. Her sudden reappearance in his life only made it worse.

God, if he only had a fucking cigarette. Of course, on the way to Heahea City, he had left his pack on the dresser. A stupid fucking mistake. A smoke might relieve part of this horrible dread, and perhaps ease his irritation. He tapped his fingers on the small cafe table, letting his boiling hot black coffee simmer in the humidity. A bead of sweat streamed down the crook of his neck. At least he was able to snag a table with an umbrella propped open.

Guzma had arrived in town at least half an hour earlier than Moon told him to, telling him to find some place and she’d meet up. Lillie was unfortunately having a wicked hangover and needed Moon by her side. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was a little ticked off at blondie for taking the precious time he needed with Moon. Instead, swallowing his bitterness, he replied that it was fine.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he arrived early for.. _. anything._ Why arrive to mundane events early as possible when the party didn’t start until later? That was what the old Guzma used to say.

The Guzma he was these days was a mere shell of Big Bad Boss Guzma.

He sighed, tapping his fingernails against the porcelain of the coffee mug, bored. The clinking provided a distraction, something to busy himself while waiting for Moon. Checking the time again on his phone, he let out another sigh - frustrated that time was not passing fast enough.

Maybe the coffee was finally cool enough to drink. Raising the cup, he took a gentle sip of the liquid. It was...just fine. A bit warmer than expected but fine and bitter, the way he enjoyed coffee.

Guzma eyed the other customers' drinks, noting that they had gone for some kind of iced, frothy beverage - a smarter choice in this weather over his black coffee. Scoffing, he pushed the cup aside. It was another product of his anxiety. A waiter had come up to the table unexpectedly, asking for his order. Panicking, he ordered the first thing off the top of his head - which just happened to be black coffee.

What was he going to say to Moon in his apology?

Fuck.

He didn’t think about that last night, like he was supposed to. Other things were occupying his mind. Before he could even dwell on the thought, he noticed Moon was walking towards the table, her pace speeding up into a jog.

“Guzma! Aaah, I’m so sorry I’m late!” Her hand rested on the table as she panted, smiling down at him. “Lillie was sick the whole night, and I didn’t want to leave her in that state. I was waiting for Hau to come take over nursing duties.”

“Glad Blondie is doin’ fine,” he mumbled, a little stunned at her appearance. Moon’s outfit was nostalgic, reminiscent of the outfit she wore when she was younger, but this was more adult. Her white tank top was short, showing off her tummy. Green shorts hugged her hips, not needing the red scarf looped around as a belt. Her vest had a floral pattern that was the same or very similar to the one that was on that one shirt she used to wear a lot. The hibiscus she wore last night was clipped to a lock of her hair, swept behind her ear. He guessed that the hair clip replaced the red beanie she used to wear, despite the swelling heat that haunted Alola.

And Guzma couldn’t stop staring at her, his jaw agape, breath halted, and practically drooling. If last night was bad, then he must be in some kind of layer of Hell. The knot in his gut pulled tighter, and he turned his head away for a moment to hide the growing flush in his cheeks.

“Are you doing alright, Guzma? You seem to be a little overheated,” she asked, her melodious voice derailing his train of thought. Moon had already seated herself, resting her cheek in her hand, using the other to pick at the short cafe menu.

He nodded, feigning a toothy smile. “It’s just _really_ fuckin’ hot. I was an idiot for pickin’ a joint right in the fuckin’ sun.”

“It’s pretty hard to avoid the heat in Alola around this time of year anyway. I don’t miss it one bit,” she smirked, eyes wandering the menu. She raised them, looking directly into his, her smirk growing. “Kalos never gets this hot; it’s one of the nicer things about living there. You never have to worry about the heat. Still, no one could have ever prepared me for the winters.”

“Does it snow there a lot?”

“Last year we got this horrible blizzard, and it caused a lot of damage to some areas. I was safe, but I knew some people who got stuck in places where it hit the hardest. From what I hear, it was _not_ pretty.”

“Yeah...I think Nanu told me sumthin’ bout that.” Guzma would have said more, but a waiter came up to the table, asking for Moon’s order this time. She ordered some kind of frozen lemonade, giggling at the stupid joke the waiter made about her ordering a lemonade at a coffee shop. His fists tightened for a slight moment, and he nearly rolled his eyes. A pinch of relief caused him to let out a sigh.

Moon arched an eyebrow at his actions. “Are you sure you’re doing alright, Guzma? I really think the heat is starting to get to you.”

He nodded too eagerly, pretending everything was fine as he grabbed his coffee, taking a sip. “Just dandy, Moonie. Nothin’ wrong with ya boi!”

“Once we’re done, maybe we can walk around the beach. The water might help you cool down,” she suggested, biting her lower lip. He hadn’t fully convinced her with his act.

“Or stroll back into Po Town,” he half-joked, taking another sip of the coffee.

She was silent for a moment, then nodded her head. “That’s actually not a bad idea.” She fidgeted with her fingers, her eyes now avoiding his gaze. “I... wanted to talk to you. About, uhm, what happened prior.”

“Us breaking up,” Guzma stated flatly, the words stabbing his heart. They didn’t break up, moreso the relationship shattered like glass. “I wanted to talk to ya too. “Bout that whole thing. But words... I’m not too great at words, always stumblin’ over every fuckin’ sentence and tryin’ to make some sense. I fight more than I talk. Actions speak louder than words, y’know?” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair, leaning back on the chair. “I regret what I did that night. I was hurt, felt like you’re the same as the others. Abandonin’ and leavin’ me cause there’s somethin’ wrong with me."

Moon opened her mouth to speak but he raised his hand to stop her. “I know it wasn’t yer intention or whatever, but fuck, Moonie. Could have had some decency ahead of time to warn me ‘bout the Champion shit.”

“Well, you threatened to beat me up and throw me out of your house after I told you. It’s not entirely my fault,” She pointed out, crossing her arms.

She was going to say more but was once more interrupted. The waiter had returned with the frozen lemonade, placing the icy drink down before scurrying away without a word. “I tried to apologize through texts and calls. I thought about coming back to Alola sooner to apologize in person, but I figured you wouldn’t like that. That, and I was afraid you’d chase me out of Po Town if I swung by.”

Guzma didn’t reply, wiping away the sweat behind his neck. Moonie sure hit the nose on that, but it really didn’t help him to have it brought up to the surface.

And yeah, he was an asshole. A _huge_ fucking asshole. No excuse for that.

 _She still left you_. That thought was persistent, numbing his self loathing.

“It’s whatever,” he shrugged, watching her take a tiny sip of the lemonade. “Past is the past. Me and you can travel into different dimensions and shit, but we can’t go back and change who we are. At the end of the day, it was a fuckin’ mess between us, and I’m sorry it ended with ya boi actin’ childish. I’m sorry I threatened to hurt you, it’s never my intent to hurt ya. _Ever_.“

“I just want to be friends again...” Her voice grew soft, soothing him like a mother would. His heartpace increased, beginning to bounce his right leg out of anxious habit.

“Why?”, he wondered out loud, biting his tongue after speaking.

_Shit._

He didn’t mean to say that out loud. Another drop of sweat rolled down his face. _Alright, let’s play cool and pretend that was meant on purpose_. “I mean, I... was a giant asshole, Moonie. I didn’t want to talk or really ever _see_ you again. Never thought _you_ would reach out to _me_ again ‘cause of it.”

 _Wrong, wrong, wrong!_ The little voice in his head reminded. _What do you think you’ve been doing for the past few years?_

Moon took another, larger sip of the frozen lemonade. Her face twisted up in disgust, and pushed the glass away. “It’s too sweet,” she explained.

“Sorry ‘bout that. You can order sumthin’ else if ya want.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re already paying for me and I don’t want to add more to the bill.”

Guzma flashed a crescent shaped grin, a sudden idea going off in his head. “Let’s just fuckin’ leave. Place is pretty shit anyway.”

Moon skittishly glanced around, searching for the waiter that had served them. “Are you sure we can do that? I think we should wait - someone will eventually come by and I can ask for the bill-"

“Nah,” he shrugged, digging around in his jacket pocket. He pulled out a few wrinkly Pokedollar bills, tossing them aside like trash onto the table before rising from his seat. “You still wanna head down to Po Town?”

“Better there than here,” she giggled, following suit

He smiled - a true, genuine smile at her. “C’mon, kid.”

* * *

The Tapu must have been rewarding him for some kind of deed or something, because during that whole walk, it didn’t rain.

Of course, in true Po Town fashion, the sky was cloudy with some distant rumblings of thunder, but that didn’t bother Guzma too much. In fact, he was glad it wasn’t raining, for seeing Moon drenched would cause too many unwanted memories to return.

Fuck, he really was pathetic.

He remained mostly quiet during the long walk back to Po Town, only speaking in short responses to Moon’s questions. Too many thoughts swarmed his mind to really converse. Well, that, and he was still too anxious to hold a decent conversation.

Something was wrong, and what bothered Guzma the most is that he wasn’t able to pinpoint why.

It was little things that kept adding up.

Moon, this walk, apologizing, how wonderfully fucking nice he was being, this vengeful desire to scream at her for abandoning him. Anything and everything felt overwhelming, closing in on him.

Fortunately, Po Town was in sight, and he could _finally_ have a damn smoke.

“Do any members from Team Skull still live in Po Town?” Moon asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Ah, not really. Everyone kinda fuckin’ left after Team Skull broke up. Not a lot kept people here to stay in Po Town,” he chewed on his lower lip, shrugging. “Po Town is kind of shitty. I dunno why I stick ‘round here.”

“How’s Nanu?”

He pretended not to notice how abrupt the subject was changed, getting his own suspicions that she was being careful not to upset him. “He’s fine. Same ol’ cranky cat lady.”

She giggled at the remark, hiding her laugher behind her hand. “I’m glad. Everything's still the same here, isn’t it? I like that.”

“I guess…” Guzma didn’t know how to respond to that remark. In fact, he didn’t have to now. They had finally reached the mansion, overlooking the two of them. He never noticed from this angle how the height blocked out potential sunlight. Why would he care?

They walked in, walking up the stairs, and ending up in his disgusting room. At least the curtains darkened the room enough to shroud all visible carpet stains.

He found himself sitting on his bed, grabbing for his smokes as she sat on his throne. “We had a lot of memories here, didn’t we?”

“Hm?” He lit the end of his cigarette with the lighter, inhaling deeply. He blew out the smoke in a satisfied sigh, careful to not blow in Moon's direction. “Oh, yeah.”

Ah fuck, nicotine was a godsend. His nerves felt instantly at ease; finally, he’d be able to speak more than a sentence without stuttering like a fool.

“Do you remember that time we had to chase that Cubone out of your room?” Her head was resting on her arms, leaning on the armrest of his throne. “I don’t even know how it got in your place.”

Oh yeah! Man, that was a long time ago. He’d forgotten all about that.

He took another drag - much shorter this time, and exhaled. “Broken window. One of the grunts fuckin’ smashed it by mistake and that little shit got in here.”

“I thought it was the door left open?”

Guzma thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah. The door left open was somethin’ else. I dunno what it was, but it wasn’t the whole Cubone thing.”

That nagging uneasiness returned, and his foot began to bounce. Something was up, and this stupid small talk was never going to reach that point until he brought it to light.

“Moonie, why did you want to see me again?” His voice was low, anxiously inhaling the cigarette as he waited for her response. Her happy demeanour dulled, that smile twitched. The room grew into a tension so thick, he could slice it through with a knife.

“I don’t know,” her eyes lowered to the ground, staring at nothing in particular. “When I came home, I felt... _obligated?_ There’s too much history between us that I could not avoid. I missed you of course, but I…” She trailed off.

“You don’t know.” Guzma finished for her.

Moon nodded. “Apologizing for what I did years ago doesn’t make up for what I did. We - _I_ should have tried better to save our relationship. Maybe it was doomed to end, but it didn’t need to go out the way it did.”

“I’m used to it, Moonie. It was bound to fuck up between us. Ya just decided to shift gears and make it happen sooner.” His thumb fiddled with the end of the butt, deciding to just crush the cigarette on an overstuffed ashtray on his nightstand.

“I’m sorry, Guzma. I didn’t want to hurt you.” Her voice was a mere wimper, holding back a muted sob.

 _But you did!_ _You ruined me!_ His mind screamed, his body too bitter and tense to comfort her just yet.

But as he watched her break down on his chair, Guzma rushed over to her, gently grabbing her chin. “Don’t fuckin’ cry over me, Moonie.”

And he did the unspeakable. He kissed her, holding back the roughness he wanted to express. He kissed her long. Finally allowed to express the years of torment and wanting he hid for so long. The love he held onto.

And she kissed him back, her tears wetting his cheeks.

Guzma picked up her body, holding it close to his chest as he carried her to his bed, dropping her on top of unmade sheets. Her hair flowed around her, almost as if it had transformed into a halo. A perfect angel.

His bulky body over towered her petite figure. All she could see was his chest, and his face, his eyes analyzing every detail of her.

He decided his first course of action would be to remove her bra, pulling up the little crop top that held them. However, he found himself caught off guard that she wasn’t wearing wearing one, staring back at her rosebud colored nipples.

Moon must have noticed the shock on his face because she started to laugh. “The weather channel did say it was going to be hot and I didn’t want to sweat so much...”

Her voice trailed off into a series of gasps as he began to squeeze them roughly, nibbling on her left nipple. He stopped to bite on the meat of the breast, leaving a nice imprint of his teeth on the supple skin. His scruffy chin grazed her breastbone as he leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek. Nestling his face between her breasts, Guzma let out a heavy sigh, inhaling her scent.

It was hard to place an exact trait on the scent, but it smelled of her. Lovely, perfect, delicious.

It was just... _her_.

He wished he was able to melt into her flesh, to be by her side always. Never to be abandoned again.

He raised his head to kiss her again, with more passion and vigor. The bonds Guzma had on to restrain himself were slipping. Her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, she welcomed the kiss, kissing him back with a level of roughness that was higher than his. Matching her, he bit on her lower lip before sliding his tongue in her mouth, swirling it around.

An insatiable hunger had snapped. He needed more, way more - more than kisses, or bites. He wanted to see her writhe in ecstasy and pain beneath him, groveling like some wanton beast.

Fuck, that thought made him pretty hard.

He placed a hand on her stomach, trailing his fingers down to her shorts, circling his index finger on the button. “Do ya want me to?” He dragged the finger lower to where her sweet spot lay hidden, petting it very, very gently, but just enough to give her a little treat.

Moon’s face had grown into a flush, her chest heaving for air. Good, she matched how he felt. She nodded, staring into his eyes. In one tug, he had pulled down her shorts and panties, nearly shouting for joy as she still kept her tuft of hair in the same, neatly trimmed style.

The soft plushness of her thighs spread apart to reveal just how soaking wet she had become in such a short time. Guzma’s mouth watered at that wonderful, glorious sight, desperate to taste the juices leaking out. Without warning her, he parted her slit, his tongue dragging across her labia in one single, painfully slow lap.

She tasted so _motherfucking_ sweet, holy fuck. He didn’t recall how good she tasted.

Dear God.

Moon’s thighs quivered, moaning in a need for more of his touch. Her fingers curled into his hair, pulling on it gently in a silent beg. Wordlessly, he relented to her pleas, repeating his teasing of her cunt with his tongue, nosing into her clit as he lapped around her.

“Fuh...fucking _hell_ ,” her cries were breathless, holding herself back from melting in his arms.

Guzma peered up at her, smirking at how helpless she had become. He paused from his licking, his smirk growing wider and wider. “Didn’t know you missed me _that_ much, Moonie.” He suddenly slipped in a finger, causing her to moan once again. “Ya boy’s gonna treat you nicely now. Don’t want my girlie cummin’ so soon.”

He slipped the finger out, leaning over her body, brushing her juices over her plump lips. “Have a lil’ taste of yourself.”

Moon’s tongue grazed over her lips, the flush only reddening.

“How do ya taste, baby?”

“G-good..”

“Good.”

Guzma wasn’t able to comprehend what he was doing. All movement was sluggish, similar to the dream of last night. It didn’t seem like it was him who was making all these choices, standing over his ex girlfriend, preparing to fuck her senseless.

This moment - _this day_ had become unreal. All his desires had become front and center, and he was going to continue displaying just how fucking much he missed Moon.

How much he still loved her.

His hands reached down to unzip his pants, pulling out his cock. It was twitching with excitement, ready to plow itself deep into Moon.

Guzma hesitated. His nerves caught back up to him, his hands trembling

_Just do it. Fuck her like the rest of women you used._

Damn these fucking thoughts to hell. Moon wasn’t like the other girls he used up. Or was that just his own bias?

She couldn’t be, right?

He swallowed, vision dulling at the corners. The only thing he was able to see was Moon with her legs still spread wide open, anticipating his next move. In an attempt to act like he was fine, he grinded his cock against her, taking special care to pay attention to her clit. That made her mewl beneath him, her body twisting and hands grabbing his sheets.

“Guzma...please...I need you,” she whined, looking up at him with lust-filled eyes.

“Ya gotta be patient, baby.”

No...he wasn’t going to fuck her like the rest.

He was going to make love to her. Physically show her his true emotions. And maybe, just maybe, she might love him back.

Guzma entered her cunt gently, gasping at how _hot_ she was. Fucking hell, he really was going to completely melt into her. Already he felt dizzy, who knew what would be left of him after this was over?

His hips rolled in gentle strokes, once again restraining himself from utterly losing all control. Moon didn’t seem to mind his slow movements, lost in her own world of hazy pleasure. Her arms hung loosely around his neck, nails digging into the nape of his neck.

He nuzzled into her shoulder, sinking his teeth into the flesh and sucking to leave a hickey. She let out a cry, digging her nails deeper. The spot where he bit would be hard to hide. Not like he really cared. He planned to leave a trail of them all over her.

In this moment, she was all his. Nothing else mattered now; they were in their own sliver of the universe.

Guzma increased his speed, shuddering at the sopping mess his love was. A low, dominant growl escaped his lips, the fantasy of her groveling beneath him coming true.

She was the Champion of this motherfuckin’ dick, the way he saw it. As a reward for her good behavior - mostly consisting of babbling nonsense - he leaned back, grabbing her hips as he dragged her closer. He lifted her lower body up, and began to thrust up, grinning from ear to ear.

Immediately, Moon screamed. He couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle at her response. “Bet you missed ya boi doin’ that, huh? Surprised you didn’t beg me to do it before. It was ya favorite thing.”

He thrusted deeper before she could give a response - not that she really was able to. She never was much of a talker when they fucked. He found it rather cute that she was able to slip into such state, intoxicated by his cock. Her moans were raspy, overwhelmed by each of his movements

Since she was in a more accessible position, he thumbed her clit, continuing his upward strokes. That caused her to tighten around his cock, causing him to stifle a moan. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Guzma was drowning in her sweet pussy, pushing him towards the edge.

“Moonie... Moonie, baby, I’m gunna cum,” he breathed, gritting his teeth. Moon erupted in some girlish noise. Assuming that it translated into "I'm about to cum as well," he increased his pace, digging his nails into her soft flesh.

A fire began to pool deep in his abdomen, forcing him to let out his own raspy moans that mingled with hers. With one violent, deep thrust, Guzma came deeply in her, his cock twitching as he groaned in relief.

She had drained every last drop from him.

He had cummed so hard, his ears rang, his body so overheated. A wave of dizziness overcame him, and he found himself collapsed on Moon’s chest, once again inhaling her heavenly scent. She rubbed the top of his head, kissing his sweat covered forehead.

For the first time in years, Guzma felt comforted. He was safe, and not alone to succumb to his dark thoughts. A man again.

He held her free hand, rubbing his fingers against her knuckles. Her hands were so tiny compared to his. He pictured the moment, of them being reunited, pondering the exact details of his perfect fantasy. But it all crumbled. Having sex - _no_ , making a declaration of love - was beyond his expectations.

Yet, still there was a twinge of regret. What was to come after this? He closed his eyes, finding himself holding onto Moon tighter. It was better for him if he didn’t think like that.

“I love you, Moonie,” Guzma murmured, still struggling to catch his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut's not over yet folks. There is more to come. (Haha, I'm hilarious.)
> 
> Thank you all for your love, and your patience as I struggled to get this chapter out. 
> 
> Also has anyone seen Guzma with black hair from the new episodes of the Pokemon anime?? mmHHHHHMMMMMM yeAH bABBY


	4. Chapter 4

The fire crackled as the wood shifted, sending embers adrift to dissipate into the night sky. The scent of firewood and sea mingled together. In the distance, the waves collided against the shore, providing just the right ambiance for a relaxing night on the beach. The old man definitely knew how to pick out the perfect spot.

Guzma loosely held a cold beer in his hand, letting it rest on his knee. Nanu popped open the top of another bottle, tossing the bottle cap into a growing pile between the lawn chairs.

The old cop groaned as he settled back in his lawn chair with a pleased sigh. “You like this beer? It’s from Kalos. Those Frenchies finally figured out how to make a decent beer.”

Guzma eyed his half-empty bottle, taking a cautious sip as Nanu watched his movements. “Fine. It’s fine.”

“And yourself? How are ya?” He took a sip with a satisfied sigh and smack of the lips.

“Fine as well.”

‘Fine’ was the limit of his range of his emotions these days.

He wasn’t sure if “fine,” “okay,” whatever term could describe his state of feeling absolutely fucking _nothing_. It still felt foreign on his tongue, as though the word didn’t belong to him. It wasn’t his right to use it.

Nothing gave him the sensation of existence anymore; smoking, drinking, he quit all those vices long ago. They weren’t doing enough to provide that wonderful hit of dopamine. The meds he was on served as little more than a blockade, trapping him within this hollow meat-shell.

Perhaps it was a good idea in the long run. It stopped him from turning to harder substances to cope. He would be able to survive a few more years of sobering despair before swallowing a fucking bullet for breakfast one morning.

What a _marvelous_ thought. 

Guzma didn’t want to live this way. No one could live this way and have a persistent leash to tame depression. Change slipped like sand through his fingers whenever he was given the offer - nothing would ever bring the big, bad, Guzma up to the surface.

Not even Moonie.

Like the world around him, she had dulled amongst the crowd, blurring into those gray sacks of flesh that reminded him of trash bags; though, she always lurked in the back of his head, staying in that box that he’d never opened.

But every once in a while, when it would start to rain, he’d pull her memory out for a few painful moments before ushering her back inside.

He didn’t do it too often these days. And that was a good fucking riddance, or a terrible, awful notion. He couldn’t decide on the matter.

Sometimes he thought that he had already felt everything he would ever feel. There was nothing more in this life for him. He peaked years ago, as the Big, Bad Boss Guzma, leader of the notorious gang Team Skull.

There had to be more to life than misery, the sliver of hope that was being beside Moonie. There had to be something worthwhile, beyond this swamp that was drowning him.

“Kid?”

He blinked back into reality, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Hm?”

Nanu arched an eyebrow. “Y’know you can cut out the tough guy shit with me. I’m not one of those headshrinkers or whatever, but if there’s something on your mind, you can tell me before you blow up.”

The old man was too nice for his own good. He shouldn’t be sticking his nose where he didn’t need to. Cocking a false smile, Guzma tilted his head back and lifted the bottle to his lips, taking a slow sip of beer. It flowed down his throat with the supposed “honey” flavor tasting like ash on his tongue, urging him to recoil and spit the liquid out.

Instead he swallowed, pretending he tasted the sweet honey, pretending that he was normal.

“Yer a broken record tonight with those questions, pops. I’m on top of the world.”

 

* * *

 

The morning was a blur.

Guzma didn’t remember opening his eyes; he just found himself awake, staring up into the ceiling as this petite, naked body snuggled against his chest.

His nicotine addiction nagged at him to scavenge around for a morning cigarette. It was pure luck that he’d remembered to purchase a new carton last night. In fact, the unopened package was resting on his nightstand - just out of reach.

He outstretched his right arm, careful with his movements to not disturb Moon’s blissful sleep. His fingertips grazed the plastic wrapper, but as soon as he dared to lean more, Moon stirred in his arms. A soft whine came from her lips.

Guess he’d have to wait to smoke until later.

Guzma let out a defeated sigh, relaxing back into the jumbled mountain of pillows and blankets. He wasn’t too upset about it. In a way, it could be considered a method to lower his dependence on cigarettes.

So he convinced himself.

His rough hands rubbed her back, finding comfort in the gingerly strokes his fingers made across her spine.

This was… _nice_. He wouldn’t mind waking up like this everyday. Naked. Beside Moon. Raindrops pattered the glass plane, like gentle music accompanying Moon’s soft snoring.

This crippled shell Guzma had built around himself when Moon left seemed to be cracking down. For the first time in a long time, he felt almost like himself. A little piece of ‘Big Bad Boss Guzma’ returned, warming his belly.

Or it was just Moon’s hand creeping up, fingers tapping upwards.

“Did I wake you?” God, he hoped not.

She shook her head no, still too sleepy to form words. Her eyes glanced upwards with the same innocent look he always pictured her to have. He ruffled her hair, pushing a few behind her ears.

“Want breakfast? I’m not sure what I really have…” His voice trailed off as his eyes caught Moon slinking between his thighs.

She yawned, rubbing her eyes. ‘’Already have it here.”

What did-

_oh._

_Oh._

His morning wood chub instantly turned rock hard, showing itself by prodding the sheets up.

“A little tent,” Moon mumbled as she pressed her index finger to its head, dragging it down his length.

Pulling aside what little coverage it had, she found herself facing his cock. Guzma’s breathing had increased in pace, anticipating more of her touches. But now he froze, breathing hitched.

She leaned her face closer, lips mere inches away from his member. Her eyelids were half closed, still heavy with slumber. Her own soft breaths were a warm breeze on his tip. Nearing on the border of teasing. He held back the urge to grab a handful of her dark curls and force his cock in her mouth.

Instead, he opted to watch her, bracing for her next move. Guzma’s patience was already wearing very thin from lack of nicotine, but perhaps there would be an alternative cure for his weak tolerance.

Her tongue found itself on his tip, coating it in her saliva. With gritted teeth he found himself clenching the sheets. His cock twitched on her tongue, eager for more. He was beginning to break out in a sweat, holding his breath for fear of breaking the spell she had cast on him.

Moon noted that fact to herself, and decided to torture him. She dragged her tongue oh so _very_ slowly downwards, coating his shaft in a sheen of saliva. Reaching the bottom, she stopped, giving a gentle kiss right where sack met member before making her way back up. Once she was at his head again, she gave it yet another kiss. A thin trail of her spit and his precum connected her lower lip to his cock.

“Nice look on ya,” Guzma breathed out, struggling to keep down a moan.

She brushed the mess off of her lips with the side of her wrist, a loose smirk twitching the corners. “Thanks.”

As he was about to make a comment about how Moon would look beautiful with more cum on her face, she already began roughly lapping at his head. He swallowed back another moan, gritting his teeth.

This...teasing - no, _torture_ \- would drive him insane if she continued this tirade of cusping the edge. The beast inside of him craved more.

Much, much more.

He found himself giving into temptation, reaching his hand out to dig themselves into her hair tightly, forcing pressure on her to move her mouth downwards. _Fuuuuckkkk_. His senses were overwhelmed with a tsunami of pleasure, nearly choking him.

It was so satisfying to peer down between his thighs and see the love of his life guzzle down his cock with such ease, Guzma nearly wanted to snap a picture of the moment to save forever.

“‘Member how to take all of me down ya throat, Moonie?”

Moon nodded her head, raising her right arm. She clenched her hand into a fist, with her thumb tucked in the middle to be squeezed by the other digits. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her. Neither could she, as he felt vibrations tingle his shaft.

Repressed memories swarmed back, recalling the first time Moonie showed him her little trick. It surprised him, this innocent looking girl who appeared like she’d never seen a dick somehow knew tips on how to suppress her gag reflex to deep throat.

...Did Moon do this trick - _their_ trick - for other guys? No, now was _definitely_ not the time to dwell on dark thoughts.

Goddamnit, why was he like this? _Fucking enjoy the moment_ , _Guzma_! Instead of coming up with depressing thoughts all the time, just enjoy the moment like in the old days. There was no need to freak himself out, especially when everything was fine.

Easing up on the hair tugging, Guzma allowed her to move her head more freely, bobbing his entire length. But it was still too slow for his liking. He roughly bucked upwards, catching her off guard. “Ya gotta earn ya breakfast!”

She rolled her eyes, pausing for a second. There was a sense of warning to her glare that implied she had the ability to stop right then and leave him hanging. As a form of apology, he stroked her cheek, giving her a half smile. Moon continued where she left off, fully concentrating on sucking him off.

He arched his head back, letting out a soft groan with a wince. God, she was so perfect at this. Her tongue swirled around his length as she sucked, driving him mad when she began to focus on his head. Big Bad Guzma finally succumbed to a puddle of moans. His hips bucked into her mouth, more gently this time, enjoying her sweet, moist mouth.

He was about to breathe out “I love you,” but stopped himself. The words stuck themselves to his throat. Perhaps saying something as foolish as that wouldn’t be for the best right now. Especially since there wasn’t much of a reaction from Moon when he had told her that last night. His chest felt heavy, burdened with doubt once again.

Was this all a mistake, from the very beginning? No, it couldn’t possibly be. How could a mistake feel so fucking good? So right to him?

Sleeping with Moon was vastly different than being piss drunk and fucking some random whore. Nah, he shouldn’t say such cruel things. He was a whore too. And he was a whore for Moon. He found himself moaning again, clearing the negative thoughts from his head as he neared climax.

He focused entirely on her, his solace and savior from every goddamn rotten thing. Guilt should have riddled his body, and the awareness of how he held his Moonie up to the stars did burn in his chest. Then again, he never was a man of morals. Only the material pleasures of the earth mattered to him - she just happened to be the best.

And right now this gift from God was sucking him dry.

“Fuck… oh fuck, Moonie I’m gunna cum...” Guzma shuddered, his body tensing up for a couple seconds, relaxing back as he finally came, collapsing into the bed. His ears rang, going deaf from how powerful his orgasm was. Once he was able to have a coherent thought, despite the ringing in his ears, he decided that this was certainly not a mistake.

Moon swallowed every last drop of him like the good girl she was and released his rapidly-softening cock from her mouth. She wiped the corners of her lips for any spare drops that had escaped. “Thank you for the meal.”

He waved his hand in the air, his body too exhausted to do anything else. “Don’t mention it, babe. I’ll get ya sumthin’ in a minute.” He let out a long sigh, patting a spot for her to come cuddle. “Just give me a sec.”

She scooted closer to him, about to lay her head on his sweat-coated chest before she was stopped by his hand. “Actually, can ya do me a favor?” he asked, motion towards his cigarettes. His addiction had to nag him at this very second.

“Only if you let me have one.”

Guzma arched an eyebrow. “Since when do you smoke?”

Moon reached her arm to grab the unopened carton, peeling the plastic packaging off. “Never. I kind of want to try one. I don’t really like the smell of them, but they always seemed interesting. My manager smokes this expensive brand that has this gold paper rimmed around it. I dunno, curiosity I guess.”

“Nope, yer not gettin’ hooked on this nasty shit and ruining your lungs. I’m too far gone. I’ll smoke two for you.” Mustering all his strength, he sat up and snatched the carton from her hands. He pulled a pack out, replacing the carton before offering the pack back to her. “I’ll let ya pick my lucky cig though.”

She took it from him gingerly, studying which cigarette was to be dubbed as lucky.  After a moment she chose a cigarette that was right in the center, pulling it out carefully to turn it around, and placed it back inside. Moon handed it back to him, tilting her head. “Did I pick a good one?”

Guzma glanced down at the cigarettes, nodding his head. “Yup! Looks lucky to me.” He pointed towards his lighter. “If ya could hand me that too, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Oh! Sorry I didn’t do that.”

“Nah, it's all good.” As she grabbed the lighter, Guzma smacked her ass with a generous slap, causing her to yelp. She gave him a glare, eyeing him as she handed him the lighter. He shrugged his shoulders, lighting the tip of the cigarette. “What? Ya got a great piece of flesh, Moonie. Always had.”

“I guess,” Moon huffed as she watched him drag from the cigarette, exhaling with a very satisfied sigh.

Whew! Nothing quite hit the spot like having a nicotine-filled cancer stick right after receiving one of the best blowjobs in his life.  “Any guy would be happy to have a girl like you in his life.”

“Actually, I have to admit something.” She brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, averting his gaze. “I... haven’t really been with anyone else since we broke up. Not on the same level of seriousness like we were. I had one short fling, but that was pretty much it.”

Her words _really_ caught Guzma off guard. Sure, it sort of bothered him that she did sleep with someone else, but to not date anyone... Guilt stung him, forced him to swallow back what little pride he had left. He truly was the man-whore. His chest tightened up, anxiety welling up too swiftly for his liking.

_Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohofuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck._

Why… why was he this way?

He took another drag and kept the cigarette in his mouth, exhaling the smoke through his nose, his hand too shaky to hold it still.

“Work occupied all of my free time, so I found it hard to go on dates or be with anyone, really,” Moon continued, seemingly unaware that he was on the verge of a panic attack. “Work _was_ my partner.”

“Yeah, haha. I can kinda see that,” he half-smiled, fighting back the enormous dread that threatened to swallow him whole. “I’m gonna check what I got in the fridge.” Before she could reply, Guzma grabbed his boxers and was hopping out of the room as he struggled to put them on.

Once he was out of her sight, he cursed himself all the way to the kitchen. Was she hinting that she wasn’t really over him? Too many thoughts swarmed his head, wailing and bickering back and forth. They were so loud he almost wanted to just bash his head against the wall to shut them up.

A drink.

Perhaps a drop of alcohol could help soothe what was left of his nerves. If he recalled, there were a few cans of beer sitting in the fridge. Scrambling to the fridge, Guzma opened it up to find it nearly empty.

Except for the beer cans tossed aimlessly on the top shelf.

He grabbed one, popping it open before swallowing most of the liquid in one gulp. The cigarette on his lips was forgotten, as it had fallen to the tile floor in the meanwhile, its cherry slowly and silently fading into ash. His lungs were so tight, so bound together. Breathing had become a challenge; he found himself wheezing for air, gasping like a fish out of water once he broke away from the can.

He sipped the rest of beer down in a slower manner, attempting to reorganize the chaotic mess of his mind.

With a sigh, he crushed the can, and tossed it over to an already overfilled trash can. Moon was waiting for him, and the last thing Guzma wanted was for her to see him like this: the raw, visible mental scars on full display. His grief would be too much for her to handle, and she’d dash out the door in seconds, no doubt. He grabbed the now five-pack of beer cans, tossing them over his shoulder and holding onto it by the empty ring as he made his way out of the kitchen and ascended the stairs.

The sudden creak of the floorboards moaning underneath his weight caught him off guard. This mansion was a brand new place. Granted, it wasn’t built _that_ recently, but still, it couldn’t already be turning to shit.

Then again, it was transformed into a fucking palace of garbage and filth and grime clinging on to every crevice. The insides rotted alongside him.

How fitting.

_You wanted this_ , he told himself. _You wanted all of this._

He turned the corner to his room, finding that Moon had gotten out of the bed and was reclining in his throne, bare legs crossed together. She wore only the white shirt he was wearing last night, the length of it draping over her thighs, stopping right above her knees.

All the panic that had been gathering had crumbled away, leaving him gobsmacked at how much she looked like a little doll. Not to mention the old memories of her riding him on the throne that resurfaced, too.

Still, this haunting presence clung to his back, and a cloud of darkness shielded him from the light. The mask was before him, and he had a role to play.

“We ain’t got shit,” he shrugged, offering one of the beers to her. “I’ll go into town and grab some food or sumthin’.”

She took one. “You can’t get someone to deliver out here?”

“No one delivers out here, sweetheart. Thought ya’d remember.” _Not anymore_ , _I guess_ , he silently added.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” She stretched out her arms, the tips of her nipples bleeding through the shirt. He glanced down at them for a moment before he glanced back up at her, watching her crack open the beer can and take a cautious sip.

A surge of nausea overwhelmed him. Whether out of settled panic, or out of consuming that much beer in such a short time, Guzma didn’t know why. All it did was cause him to panic again, cursing himself. He rushed out of his bedroom and towards his bathroom sink, purging his innards out. Tears welled up in his bloodshot eyes, his throat burning. Fuck.

“Shit, Guzma, are you alright?!” Moon called after him, running into the bathroom. She began to rub his back, a gesture that should have comforted him.

Instead he recoiled, flinching at her touch. “ _Don_ ’ _t_.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“You’re not.”

He heard her footsteps leave the bathroom, leaving him alone with his vomit and words. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he turned the faucet, letting the water wash it all away, wishing it would take him along.

“I think I should get Nanu. He might be able to help you better than I can.”

“Don’t,” he said again, whispering, “don’t leave me, please, Moonie.” He crumbled, sinking to his knees, hands gripped the sink counter so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Guzma began to sob like a lost child, hitting his forehead against the counter with a yell. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you. I’m fuckin’ scum and I should just fucking kill myself!”

And the words spilled from his mouth, letting loose a deluge of despair that had been pent up for years. For the first time in a long time, he allowed the depression to truly sink in. He had died, and Moon was the gatekeeper of his fate, dangling the keys of happiness in front of him.

He confessed his sins, old and new, how he pathetically wished for her return and kindness while fucking random women, jerking off to her photos, dubbing himself a rotten coward.

His eyes were kept shut for the fear of seeing hers. The last thing he wanted right then was to see Moonie’s eyes full of that agonizing pity. He felt himself drifting from his body, finding that he was standing in the corner of his bathroom.

Two Guzmas existed.

Nothing was real anymore. Helpless, he watched himself cry, tightening his fists.

God, he just wanted to beat the shit out of himself for being so fucking pathetic. That was what he needed. No drugs, no girls. A good, decent beating that left his ribs broken and stomach shuddering, blood dripping from his split lips.

“ _WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS_?!”

The crying Guzma lifted his head, eyes wet with tears and face covered in snot. His mouth opened and closed like a magikarp out of water.

“Get a grip on yourself, fucker,” he hissed, before he lunged forward. He pinned him to the bathroom floor, his head thudding against the tile. The crying Guzma was stiff underneath him. “Ya really gonna let me beat ya to fuckin’ death, aren’t ya?” He lifted the shirt collar of him, mouth foaming with rage.

Suddenly, hands gripped at his throat, nails digging into the flesh and dragging downwards to leave ragged red stripes. An animalistic screech sputtered from his throat. Fury in his fist, he punched him in the face. The impact of the hit shot pain throughout his right arm, but he didn’t care.

He simply didn’t care anymore.

Guzma threw one punch after another, screaming and clawing the sobbing face into shreds. By the time he was done with the cocksucker, there would be nothing but a fleshy mound left. He was erasing all traces of him, to immerse the spirit into a void where he would never slip out again.

He pulled back each punch, each yell, spitting his venom into his face. Every time his knuckles bruised he declared a victory, the numbness swallowing his body whole in a cocoon.

But he too, began to cry. The tears rained onto bloody cheeks and broken teeth. The Guzma underneath wheezed, eyes swollen shut. He turned his gaze away. Regret twisted within his belly, though there was so much he wanted to do. This wasn’t enough for him.

Panting, he rose from the body, staring down at the defeated half. A minute passed, then another. He was gasping for air with burning lungs, ears ringing. He felt as though he was swimming and had come up for air just before he drowned.

Guzma peered down, wiping the sweat from his forward. A sadistic smile parted his lips into a sneer, a laugh emerging from his throat dryly.

“See ya in hell.”

A deep breath.

Guzma raised his foot, hesitating for a moment before he brought it down on himself. The sickening squelch of a head caving in brought him clarity. Collapsing, he thought he landed on the body, but instead felt the tile, his head cracking.

 

* * *

 

Voices came and went, slurring and incomprehensible. The white lights whooshed before him, guiding him across the glowing aura that surrounded Guzma. His voice was stolen from him, his mouth sewn shut.

Was this Hell? It certainly didn’t feel like it, and it almost felt like a letdown. Hell appeared more like a hospital from his perspective. Not how he imagined it, with fiery pits of demons chanting his sins over and over. Perhaps it was merely himself envisioning where he would end up.

A cool sensation pressed into his cheeks, the skin softer than feathers, the scent of nicotine and honey drifting across his nostrils. No, this couldn’t be Hell. Hell wouldn’t smell so sweet.

Then he woke up in a bed.

A bandage was wrapped around his head, and an IV stuck in his arm. He brought himself up, panic clawing its way up his spine.

Then came in the therapist and doctor, speaking like broken records that screeched and crackled with static.

“You were a danger to yourself.”

“You are under observation.”

“Three days until you can go home. In the meantime, we will prescribe you medication.”

“How long have you had suicidal thoughts?”

Three days passed. One prescription later he was back home. Numbness possessed him, becoming a host to protect his emotions, and to attempt to process what had happened. He couldn’t remember, and that terrified him.

Guzma sat on his bed, chewing on his lip. Like a fairy pokemon, Moon appeared at his bedroom window holding a paper sack wafting the scent of greasy burgers and fries. He should have been excited about finally eating real food, but his mouth watered at the sight of her.

They ate in silence, her hand in his comparatively giant ones that held her so gently.

“I wish you had told me,” she whispered, a bit of ketchup on the corner of her lip.

He reached his thumb out to wipe it away. “Past is in the past,” he mumbled back. “I don’t think we would’ve played nice talkin’.”

Silence befell them again. It was then he noticed that Moon was wearing her old beanie. Shit, what a sight for his old eyes. The last piece of her heart fluttered. The seams that shaped the flower petals were frayed, the fabric worn from years of wear.

“Ya look nice.”

“Thanks.” She paused. “When do you go see the therapist?”

He scratched behind his head nervously. “Monday. Shit - nah that ain’t it. Tuesday!” He nodded in affirmation.

“How do you confuse Monday with Tuesday?”

“I dunno. When you’re an idiot like ya boi Guzma here.”

She squeezed his hand, frowning. “Don’t...”

He opened his mouth to respond with something catty, but instead opted to keep in yet another self-deprecating joke at his own expense.

Moon’s eyes lowered. “While you were in the hospital. I got a call from my manager. They need me back as soon as they can. There’s been an influx of trainers wanting to battle me, and they’re starting to get impatient.”

“Why sound so sad? I’m not gonna break down or anythin’ again.”

“I’m just... scared. I don’t want to leave you.”

“Moonie...,” his voice faltered, a trickle of hope beamed. Was this his redemption? Will he finally get the girl and live happily ever after?

No, not like this. When he was better, maybe. Only time and luck will tell.

“Go back, and beat the shit outta those trainers. I’ll be okay. I’ll _learn_ to be okay.”

 

* * *

 

So she did.

Moon left Alola and Guzma behind with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to return as soon as possible.

Communication between them was null, but he convinced himself that it was fine. She had her own life to live, being the champion and all, and he needed to dedicate this time to himself - and only himself. He would learn to be fine, he declared with such borrowed optimism from the anti-depressants.

But his Moonie never called. Only falsehoods of a chance to video chat, instead of one-worded text messages. Something always came up, of course, and he found himself saying sorry more often that she did.

For the first time in a very long time, Guzma didn’t find himself obsessing over her. Despite the mess their rendezvous had made him, it had also brought him some kind of fucked up closure. Sure, he was at the forefront of dealing with his mental issues, and he still wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing at this point in life, but maybe the head-shrinkers were right.

He’d be okay. He’d be back to the good ol’ Guzma in no time. And he’ll make Moonie proud of his progress. Proud of him.

Then the meds finally kicked in. How sluggish they made him, how utterly drained and devoid of all personality they caused him to be. His beer belly stuck out a tad more.

And there he sat in self-pity and loathing, with a second beer in hand, half-pretending to listen to a repeated story of Nanu’s detective adventures. The bottle was empty, and he was only toying with it to saw off some anxious nerves.

“Those fuckers ended up getting away from me, but they got cornered by one of those Officer Jenny girls. Crazy how all of them are related and look the exact same. They’re not bad lookin’, though,” the old man sighed, a glossy look over his eyes. “Perhaps if I wasn’t so wrinkly, I’d see which one of them has daddy issues.”

“Doubt any of ‘em wanna date a crazy cat lady.” Gumza shot back.

“You got me there, kid. Besides, I’m too old to date.”

He didn’t reply, only tossed the bottle in the sand and got from the lawn chair with a sigh. “It’s gettin’ late, I should be headin’ back home.”

“You still living in that dump?”

“It ain’t a dump no more. I’ve been workin’ on trying to clean it up. One of these days I’ll invite ya to swing on by with more of those beers.” A fake smile was painted on his face, displaying all of his teeth. A little white lie wouldn’t hurt. Though he promised to take out the trash when he got back to Po Town.

It was the little steps that matter, right?

Nanu smirked back, stretching from his lawn chair. “Don’t worry about picking up the bottles. I’ll clean it up later when I leave.”

“Ya sure?”

He waved his hand, shooing him away. “Pssh, it’ll be fine, kid. Go home.”

Guzma shrugged, lingering a moment longer before his anxiety deciding for him that it was time to leave. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, beginning the walk home.

The ocean had a special touch at night. There was something mysterious about peering out on the horizon to see nothing ahead. In another life, he must have been a sailor or something. He wasn’t interested in water-type Pokemon, he was more than satisfied with his own bug-type.

If he got the money, one day he’d get a little boat and learn how to sail. He’ll travel to all the islands and to the mainland, to Kalos where Moon was. There he would pick her up and they would sail the seven seas. Together at last.

The happy thought crumbled. He was ahead of himself, thinking foolish dreams that would only bring disappointment from lack of fruition.

So he walked the distance back to Po Town, aimlessly wandering the island like the lost soul he had become. Exhaustion hadn’t taken hold, yet he felt so drained of energy just by socializing with Nanu. The air began to chill, and for warmth he lit a cigarette, the smoke a poor attempt at creating heat.

Out of nowhere, his phone buzzed.

Goddamn, if it was one of those spammers messaging him again with their scams, he’d personally find them in real life and fight them. Muttering, he pulled his phone out, his lips cracking into a smile.

Guzma slipped the phone back into his pocket with the smile still plastered on his face.

Moonie was coming back to Alola.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for waiting so patiently. I am amazed at all the kind words and kudos my fic has received. This is honestly the first fic I've finished, and it's taught me a lot as a writer. While I didn't want to wait so long to finish it, I'm glad that I didn't keep pushing it off until I just would give up on it like past works. 
> 
> Thank you all again. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.


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